[PR 2923 
1864 
.B54 
Copy 1 



:EKCENTENARY 



-ELEBRATION 





ki\ 0I S|a|§|i«ac?, 



Mciv-Kixgfani Misforic-lxeTiea(ojica( Society, 



Boston, Mass., April 23, 1864. 



Remarks and Ode by John H. Sheppard. 



BOSTON: 

PRINTED FOR THE SOCIETY, 

By GEORGE C. RAND & AVERY, No. 3, CORNHILL. 

MDCCCLXIV. 






TERCENTENARY 



CELEBRATION 




cl| ol S|a|^jpmc^, 




J(ciu-En(|(anb Misfonc-Jxcncalocjical Socicf^% 



Boston, Mass., April 23. 1S64. 



'j ^ ^3 ,> , 



Remarks and Ode by John H. Sheppard. 



BOSTON: 

PRINTED FOR THE SOCIETY, 

BY GP:0R(JE C. KAND & AYERY, No. 3, CORNHILL. 

MDCCCLXIV. 



a:.^^ 



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" Sliakspeare slioukl be regarded not merely as a wonderful genius, but as a 
providential man, wlio was sent to do a work for God and humanity in the new 
and marvellous age that we call modern. Luther opened the Bible; but Shak- 
speare unsealed humiin life, and brought the broad play and inmost mind of its 
scenes, events, characters, passions, and principles, into full light and air, and did 
not a little to interpret the Word and Spirit and Kingdom of God to the world." — 
Sjieech of Rev. Sarmiel Osgood, D.D., at '■'■The Century,''^ Xew-York City. 



r. 

..Ae'03 



REMARKS. 



REMARKS 



Fisher Ames, in an eloquent eulogy on the death 
of Washington, delivered before the Legislature of 
Massachusetts on the eighth day of February, 1800, 
speaking of the rarity of great men in history, re- 
marks, " In all this dreary length of way, they ap- 
pear like five or six light-houses on as many thousand 
miles of coast: they gleam upon the surrounding 
darkness with an inextinguishable splendor, like stars 
seen through a mist ; but they are seen like stars, to 
cheer, to guide, and to save." 

To men of this original character we owe the 
moral improvement and intellectual grandeur which 
have distinguished a few nations above all others. 
Some by their discoveries, others by their inventions, 
and here and there a transcendent genius whose writ- 
ings have elevated and adorned our race, are among 
these benefactors of mankind ; as though the Al- 
mighty had specially created a superior being, and 
given him an almost superhuman power to guide a 
nation to a higher and happier destiny. Such w^ere 
Lord Bacon and Sir Isaac Newton ; and we may add 
William Shakspeare, whose dramatic wTitings have 
done more to improve public taste and embellish the 
arts of life than any uninspired author, ancient or 
modern. 

The home of childhood, where the eye of genius 



first looks abroad upon the scenery of this beautiful 
world, sometimes gives a coloring to all the future 
life. It may have been so with Shakspeare ; for 
Stratford upon Avon, where he was born, lies in the 
midst of a picturesque country, and perhaps contrib- 
uted to those ideal landscapes which have charmed 
the world. We know but little of his early educa- 
tion ; only that his advantages were not superior to 
those of thousands of other boys, — a few years at a 
free grammar-school in his native town. Ben Jonson, 
in a poem to the memory of his beloved William 
Shakspeare, says, ^' Thou hadst small Latin, and less 
Greek." Of his acquirements, however, we may form 
some idea by a study of his writings. They afford 
indubitable evidence that he was a great reader, 
and had a most tenacious memory. The English 
authors of the time, translations of the Greek and 
Roman classics, works of history, voyages and travels, 
poetry, and indeed all sources of knowledge, even the 
dry technicalities of the law, must have come within 
his mental grasp. In this way he garnered up mate- 
rials for the future ingenuity of his pen. That he 
had an exquisite ear for music, and a natural taste 
for painting and sculpture, no diligent reader of his 
plays can doUbt ; and in them we can trace some 
fruits of the seed sown in this grammar-school. But 
the training of his mind went far beyond any human 
tuition; as though there had been some invisible being 
watching over his progress, like the Genius Loci, ac- 
cording to ancient superstition; for he was an ardent 
lover of Nature. This round world, with its blue 
mountains in the distance, its green forests, vales, 
and glens, lake, river, and ocean, the starry heavens 
above, and the sun and moon in their glory, were 



mirrored on his soul, as it were a photograph to look 
upon when he wrote. No poet that ever lived equalled 
him as a word-painter : his mind reflected the very 
features and drapery of Nature herself 

There w^as one intellectual attribute peculiar to 
him, — original, striking, and of surpassing force ; 
the ideal conception so well described by Dugald 
Stewart in his '' Philosophy of the Mind," — a power 
not only of forming ideal creations, but of bringing 
persons and places of distant ages before the mind's 
eye, as though they w^ere present. Walter Scott, in 
his inimitable Waverley Novels, manifested, though 
in a less degree, this marvellous faculty. On this ac- 
count, the learned Dr. Arnold, in his Lectures on His- 
tory, has observed, that in the " Fortunes of Nigel " 
he presents the most life-like pictures of King James 
that have been drawn by any historian. The view 
of Rome in "Julius Caesar," and the isle of Prospeio 
in the " Tempest," might be offered in illustration, if 
time would allow. 

He seems at a very early age to have acquired a 
knowledge of the world, — the precursor of his aston- 
ishing development of the affections and passions. 
Such knowledge is a fearful gift to the young; for 
the sight of the human heart in its worst estate is 
terrible. Take, for example, one of his deepest and 
sublimest tragedies, — as " Otllello " or " Hamlet " or 
"Lear" or '^Macbeth," — and we shudder at the de- 
pravity there exhibited. This profound knowledge 
of man is one of the pillars on which his ideal concep- 
tions securely rest ; for he never violates good sense, 
nor introduces characters inconsistent with the object 
of his drama. 

Shakspeare has been considered by a few persons 



as a writer of lax morals, because sometimes a gross 
allusion or piece of vulgar wit from some clown or 
low fellow crops out in his plays ; but most un- 
justly, and without cause. There may be solitary 
passages which offend prudish modesty : such excres- 
cences belong rather to the age in which he lived 
than to the taste of the great dramatist. Dr. Chal- 
mers, the late divine of Scotland, read all his plays 
at sixty-five, and remarked, "I look upon Shakspeare 
as an intellectual miracle ; " and, at another time, " I 
dare say Shakspeare was the greatest man that ever 
lived ; perhaps greater than Sir Isaac Newton himself" 
Let his tragedies and comedies be read, studied, and 
reviewed, act by act, scene by scene, as a scholar 
would read Chaucer's " Canterbury Tales " or Spen- 
ser's ^' Faery Queen," and there would be no exception 
to the exalted opinion which Dr. Chalmers, Goethe, 
Hallam, and the late John Quincy Adams, entertained 
of this wonderful man. 

In contemplating the intellectual character of 
Shakspeare, our thoughts are necessarily led to the 
stage, ¥^hich inspired his dramatic efforts ; and here 
may arise a question of ethics, touching the morale of 
the theatre, — a subject on which many good and ex- 
cellent men of taste and learning differ in opinion. 
But neither the time nor the occasion requires a dis- 
cussion of this kind. It is enough to observe, that, 
without the stage, the genius of Shakspeare might 
have slept forever, and Sophocles and Euripides and 
Terence, whose dramas have charmed the world for 
ages, been unknown. To the pure, all things are pure ; 
and it is hard to believe that a virtuous mind was 
ever polluted by a well-written play enacted in a 
respectable theatre. 



9 



Pardon me for a personal and local allusion. It is 
to that joyous period of life when I first saw and felt 
the power of this great writer, as it were, in his glory. 
I was a boy at college. Three of us, classmates, one 
evenino; found ourselves at the old Federal-street 
Theatre, — the cynosure of Boston long before she 
became a city, and her beautiful Franklin Place a 
crescent of palatial stores. Cooper that night took 
the part of Hamlet; and, I think, Mrs. Powell of 
Ophelia. We entered a world of dazzling beauty. 
There was a dense audience : the pit, where we three 
boys sat midway, fronting the stage, seemed all heads 
and eyes ; and the circle of boxes, row above row, 
was crowned with handsome men and women, the 
eiile of the town, in elegant costume. In a flood of 
light, the orchestra struck up some rich old airs; and 
then, on a scene of profound stillness, the curtain 
rose. The recess of the stage looked dim and misty, 
representing a midnight hour ; and as we listened to 
the low, troubled voices of the sentinels, the clock 
struck twelve. Then came on a gallant form in 
armor, in which '- the majesty of buried Denmark did 
sometime dwell." It was the ghost of Hamlet. To 
be sure, we boys were not frightened like Partridge 
in Tom Jones, though our faces were solemn. In the 
next scene, Mr. Cooper made his appearance amidst a 
drowning applause. But I will not dwell upon a play 
so well known to the public. There may be some 
present who have seen him in Hamlet; and perhaps, 
in this brief reminiscence of by-gone times, the 
chords of memory may be touched. 

Mr. Cooper, the great American actor, had a re- 
markably elegant and graceful form : the expression 
of his fiice was manly and commanding; and, in the 



10 



deep mourning of the Prince, his bearing was digni- 
fied, and his gestures appropriate. Never shall 1 for- 
get the clear, rich, deep tones of his fine dramatic 
voice. There was no rant, nor bellowing surges of 
passion, out-Heroding Herod, so popular among some 
amateurs of the theatre in the present day; for this 
eminent tragedian was always natural. Mrs. Powell 
was then a brilliant star of the stage, — a lady much 
respected for her talents, and beloved for her private 
virtues Her voice was sweet and musical in its in- 
tonations, with a touch of sadness in its cadence, like 
the air of " Annie Lawrie," said to be heard by the 
Scotch woman at the siege of Lucknow. Bernard 
was then the best comedian of the day. But they 
have all gone ; and the Federal-street Theatre has 
disappeared with them. 

The performance of" Hamlet," as I then saw it, left 
no injurious traces to call forth the repentance of 
after-years. It rather filled the soul with sublime 
emotions, and awoke a noble ambition to do some- 
thiniJi:. 

"Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamiir in illis." 

The taste of the higher circles has changed. Private^ 
tableaux vivantsy public readings and lectures, have be- 
come fashionable; and more especially the readings 
on Shakspeare from the classic and magnificent voice 
of Fanny Kemble, who will long be remembered. For 
in no seminary of education, nor school of rhetoric, 
have the vocal powers been cultivated to that degree 
of excellence which distinguishes the histrionic art. 
Indeed, we live in a woild where good and evil are 
found together in almost every state of society; and 
it is the highest point of wisdom to choose the good. 



11 



and reject the evil. We carry our vices with us to 
the theatre : seldom do we acquire them there. 

When Shakspeare, a few years before his death, 
retired from the gayeties of London, he returned to 
his native place, and there, with an ample fortune, 
lived in elegance. He had seen enough of the world, 
and cared but little for its honors or its applause. 
He took no pains even to collect his thirty-five plays 
(for " Titus Andronicus " is thought to be spurious), 
and to revise them, but left them to erudite critics to 
discuss, and curious antiquaries to resolve, age after 
age, to this day. He died in the meridian of his 
talents ; some say, on the anniversary of his birth, 
1616, at fifty-two years of age. Fortunately a por- 
trait of him, taken from his bust, has come down to 
us : it is a noble and magnificent face. Of his fig- 
ure, Aubrey says, '' He was a handsome, well-shaped 
man." A more perfect model of a gentleman was 
never drawn than in the advice of Polonius to Laertes, 
wherein he says, — 

" Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar." 

There is reason to believe that Shakspeare was at 
heart of a religious turn of mipd. There are many 
passages in his plays which evince his faith in a 
special Providence, and there are often solemn allu- 
sions to the spirit-world ; in the sweet words of Long- 
fellow, — 

" To the islands of the blest, 
To the land of the hereafter." 

And who but a believer in Christianity could have 
written as he did of Christmas ? — a holy day, which 
every year in this country seems more and more 
recovering from past neglect : — 



12 



" Some say that ever, 'gainst that season comes 
In which our Saviour's birth is celebrated, 
The bird of dawning singeth all night long." 

It is pleasing to meditate on places where extraor- 
dinary genius or illustrious merit has made a home. 
Imagination lingers in the Yale of Yaucluse, where 
Petrarch revived letters ; or in Abbotsford, dear to 
all the lovers of romance and minstrelsy; and in 
Stratford upon Avon, where Shakspeare was born and 
died. And who is there in our own beloved land 
whose heart does not cling to those sacred precincts 
where lived the Father of his Country, — Mount Ver- 
non ; scarcely redeemed from all vulgar uses by the 
eloquent Everett, and set apart as a hallowed spot, 
before it was surrounded by the flames of civil war ? 
May it be preserved by a kind Providence from dese- 
cration until we are again restored to union and 
peace ! 

The influence of Shakspeare's plays in England 
and the United States has exceeded that of all other 
writings except the Holy Scriptures. They are found 
in almost every dwelling of taste, and their beauties 
are familiar to every educated mind. Perhaps they 
are more generally read in the United States than in 
Great Britain, in consequence of our more numerous 
schools and seminaries. As in his time our ancestors 
generally belonged to England, we rightfully and cor- 
dially claim Shakspeare as also our own sweet poet ; 
and happy is the thought, that, on this anniversary 
of his birth, the banner of St. George and the stars 
and stripes of our Republic can wave in unison to 
the memory of the same great man ! 



ODE 



15 



ODE ON SHAKSPEARE'S BIRTHDAY. 

BY JOHX H. SHEPPARD, ESQ. 

In Stratford upon Avon, 
Where the silent waters flow, 
The immortal Drama woke from slci'p 
Three hundred years ago : 
Then, as the long, dark ages rolled away, 
A light from heaven shone on Siiakspeahe's face. 
Land of the illustrious dead ! with thee this day 
We love to linger near that hallowed place ; 
For wert thou not the father-land of our New-England race ? 

Beyond the Rocky Mountains, 
From the Golden Gate of fame, 
Fcir east to Schoodic's misty shores. 
Is heard his honored name. 
Live where we may, such life-like scenes he drew. 
Arrayed in robes of beauty all his own. 
Nature herself proclaims each picture true 
To Albion's echoing hills : nor there alone ; 
As e'en Niagara speaks in Prospero's thunder-tone. 

Ah ! what a halcyon memory 
Our school-boy days bring on, 
When young Othello told us how 
He Desdemona won ! 
Where are the voices that once filled the air ? 
Let not stern manhood deem the illusion wrong, 
When the boy dreamed the enchanted isle was there 
Near Academic grove, unknown to song, 
AVhere Kennebec among the hills meandering glides along. 

Not in the theatre alone 
Is seen his wondrous power ; 
Though some great actor tread the stage, 
The pageant of an hour : 
He visits many a humble home ; and, when 
Some brave thought stirs the heart by sorrow riven, 
We feel like heroes, though we live like men 
In lowly lot ; for here full oft at even 
The Bard of Avon sweeps the ^5^olian harp of heaven. 



16 



England, with all thy glory 
From the Druid days of old, 
Not Creey's pride, nor Agincourt, 
Nor Field of the Cloth of Gold, 
Shines with such virtue in all coming time 
As genius, learning, minstrelsy, inspire : 
They fill the ideal world with thoughts sublime ; 
Guiding Ambition's eye to aim far higher 
Than light the flames of civil war with strange, unholy fire ! 

They gleam like stars in history 
Along a dreary waste 
Who first enlarged the bounds of mind, 
Or raised the tone of taste. 
Thus Bacon looms up in that glorious age 
Of Spenser's lay and Jonson's critic eye ; 
When a Promethean spark illumed the stage. 
And Shakspeare drew such scenes of time gone by, 
That life a drama seems 'midst shadows of eternity. 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
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